Snapped
by Angel801
Summary: Mathew is suffering. Can Francis help him in his time of need or will he drive his Canadian over the edge? Rated T to be safe for mild gore and all. Franada


**Don't kill me! I finally found a way to put up stories so I'll be getting them up faster! This is something i wrote a while ago and i hope you don't hate it~!**

**Disclaimer: Sadly i own no Hetalia...For now! *evil laugh***

**Warnings: It's mostly hurt/comfort and when my editor read it, she cried so however you want to take that~! Mild gore and suicide but has a happy ending *hates tragedies***

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The blood dripped slowly as the cut grew. A smile on bruised lips, a tired face, and small tears. This was all that remained of a beaten Mathew. A light chuckle trembled off his lips as the figures slowly walked off. This was the third time this month. They must be really bored, he thought. After enduring the silence for a few more minutes, Mathew picked himself up and dragged himself home. He made his way through the door and saw his brother, Alfred, playing his video games on the family screen again.

Mathew gave a sad smile. There once was a time when he would probably scold Alfred for locking himself in his videogame world and try to make him play a board game or something. He sighed and shook his head. Those times were gone. It didn't matter anymore. It's not like Alfred would listen to him anyway. He hated him.

Mathew trudged up the steps, not caring how much noise his footsteps made. Alfred would ignore him anyways, so what was the point in staying hidden? As he walked into his room, Mathew found his pet polar bear waiting for him on his bed. He sat down with dried blood still crusted on his face and ignored the pain that shot through him as he made to sit down. He pet his bear who closed its beady eyes and leaned into the comforting hand. Kumajiro was the only one who cared about Mathew anymore, it seemed.

The blonde got up and moved to the bathroom for a shower. As he began undressing, he looked into the mirror at himself. He took in his small form; Bruises decorated his chest and back with scars adorning his abdomen. And his face, he added, as he dragged his cold fingers across the new cut on his right cheek. His hair was a mess and he sighed again as he looked at the self-harm scars on his wrists and arms. Finally he reached his eyes. They were soft but cold, lifeless. The bright purple joy that once filled them was gone, leaving behind a dull and faded purple-grey hue. As he stepped under the hot water, he thought what was going to happen to him. He couldn't keep going on like this. It was stupid for all these horrible things to happen just because of one little thing.

A glimpse of anger ran though Mathew but it was easily replaced with pain again as he got out of the shower. Not because of the bruises or cuts on his body, but because of the cuts _in_ his chest. His heart ached with longing and rejection. If he knew this was how it would be, Mathew would never had come out.

_The sky was bright and the sun filled Mathew with a sort of warmth. He giggled as his big brother threw the ball again, making it go over the his head. The air was chilly as the seasons were changing into fall and soon winter but Mathew seemed not to notice. He was panting when he finally reached the ball and after picking it up, he turned and waved it in the air at Alfred._

_"Nice, Mattie! No throw it back!" the laughter could be heard in his voice as his childish little brother stumbled across the frozen park grass before attempting to throw the football once more. _

_He giggled and closed his eyes in a big grin. He was 8 years old then. _

_When he opened his eyes, he was at school with his best friends; Francis, Gilbert, Antonio, and of course his big brother. They were having lunch and laughing about something Mathew didn't remember. His friends smiled at him and they swapped parts of their meal they didn't care for as per usual during lunch time. Soon they were on their way to class and Francis had his arms around his friend who blushed. He had been crushing on Francis for a while but still didn't know how to tell the Frenchman. The other noticed Mathew's uneasiness and smiled down at him with all the warmth he could muster. The Canadian relaxed as all his worries simply dropped in that moment and they made their way to their 8__th__ grade classroom._

_He closed his eyes once more and took a deep breath. When Mathew opened his eyes again, the scene before him was much less pleasant. He had just confessed to Alfred that he was crushing on another guy._

_"You're…gay?!" he looked mortified. Of course he would be. He was the star of the school, he couldn't have his brother being gay and ruining his image! Mathew flinched at the malice in his brother's voice. If that didn't show his anger, his face made sure to cover that base. Alfred's eyes looked hurt and dark in that moment. Before either could say anything else, a hand made contact with Mathew's cheek, forcing him to the living room floor. "You're sick." That was the last thing Mathew heard from his brother's mouth before he was gone. The front door was left open and all Mathew could do was cry after the shrinking form of his beloved brother..._

Mathew woke with a jerk and heavy breathing. He gasped for air as his throat constricted, making him choke. Why did he have to remember all that now? He got up to get a drink of water and noticed his clock saying 6:55. Might as well get up anyway, school was going to start soon. With a heavy heart, Mathew got ready for school and sat down with his journal.

*_Dear Journal, I had the dream again. I wonder if Alfred remembers when he loved me? Why is being gay such a bad thing? It's still love right? Today is yet another day of school. I'm positively dreading it. What if Ludwig and Ivan come after me again? They came to visit me last night…_

_I was on my way home from the drug store when they came out of an alley. Cliché much, huh? Anyway, they beat me up again. I got another scar on my cheek for everyone to see. If they even see me, that is. Still no one notices me or seems to care. Am I alone now? I wish mom and dad were here but I guess it was my fault anyway. Somehow, according to everyone else, every bad thing is somehow my fault. I wonder if it'll end soon? I wonder why I keep waiting for someone to finally kill me. My friends and Al hate me, mom and dad are dead, everyone has made it their favorite game to see how far they can push me. I've come close to that edge, mon cher. I cannot last much longer. I wonder how long the fall will be? What awaits me at the bottom of that cliff?*_

Mathew put up his notebook before realizing he was going to be late soon. Good. If he wasn't there early, maybe the bullies would leave him alone until lunch again. He gathered his things and head out the door to school. He looked around for his killers but they seemed amiss this morning. Mathew felt both happy yet disappointed at that fact. He was lost in thought as he went through his classes and such. Everything was the same; kids threw things at him, names were called, occasionally he was hit in the hallway. He ignored it all; he was numb. He was so used to it by now that it was like it never even happened.

Then lunch came. The time where students could do whatever they felt like; this was their little time of "freedom" during school. Mathew didn't even bother to go to the lunch grounds. He had been through enough torture sessions and public humiliation to know not to do _that_ again. As he made his way to the old school garden, Mathew began to gaze up at the tree he lay under. It never ceased to amaze him how it could stand so strong. It gets beat with rain, hail, and even the strongest winds and yet it still stands. I'm a lot like this tree…except it can stand longer than I, he thought.

He was about to get out his Journal again when he heard some rustling nearby. It sounded different than the wind and when Mathew looked over, he saw his little "friends" coming his way. He jumped up and made his way to the tree. He tossed his bag into the highest limbs and made to follow it but it was a little too late.

"Well well. Looky who we have here~" Mathew flinched as he turned around slowly to face his perpetrators. He gulped, he really hoped they weren't here to beat him. It was the Bad Touch Trio. They were famous for being the jerks of the school. Gilbert was the first to step forward. His eyes held pure mischief as he leaned in close to the smaller's face. "We've missed ya, Matt." He grinned but his voice held no comfort. Mathew gulped loudly as he backed up flat against the thick tree trunk. He was shaking slightly, half out of fear and half out of anxiousness.

At that moment Mathew looked over the albino's shoulder and spotted Francis. He mentally cursed himself for still not getting over his stupid childhood crush. The Frenchman was busying himself with some nearby flowers. He seemed hypnotized by the little garden off on the side. Mathew had been taking care of it for a long time and when he followed Francis's gaze, he felt his heart sink. The moments dripped by but still no call from the blonde made an effort to reach his friends.

"What should we do, boss?" the Spanish accent came from the brunette in the background. Gilbert looked at him sideways, never dropping his smirk.

"What do ya say we give him a little payback?" Before Mathew could make any move to run, a fist connected to his cut cheek. Blood slowly made its way down the Canadian's face once more, a small tear following it. He kept his eyes on the ground next to him as he fell against it with a light thud. Antonio shoved his friend over, wanting a turn at "Hit the Queer". Feet dug into Mathew's sides and stomach. Once in his face, even.

"C'mon, Francy! Join in!" Gilbert threw over his shoulder at his friend. Violet eyes met French blue ones. The kicking ceased and Mathew shook violently as the pain shot through him.

"I don't know. I'm not really…" "C'mon! Don't be a queer and just kick him. Let him have it!" 'Don't, please. I love you, please Francis…' he thought. His face was blank but guilt was clear in the Frenchman's eyes. That didn't stop him. Damn peer pressure.

A sharp pain hit Mathew's chest. It wasn't by the other's now blunt foot digging into him; it was his heart that hurt the most. The person he loved with all his heart and soul was hurting him, screaming vulgar words down at his quivering form. He heard the other two cheering him on in the background but all he could focus on was his Francis. He stopped and his friends yelled at him to finish the poor Canadian. No more blows came; what came was much worse.

"I hate you." The words were spat and slapped the small Canadian hard in the face. With that, the trio was gone. Mathew didn't stop the tears anymore, he felt them course down his cheeks and freeze on his face before more took their place. His heart was broken and his spirit lay lifeless next to him in a shivering heap of tears and pain. The words echoed in Mathew's head as he weakly picked himself up, grabbed his bag, and headed home. "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you." Forget school. Mathew was going home. He was done.

Mathew slowly dragged himself from the dirt and knocked his bag down. He slung it over his shoulder, careful to miss any injuries, as he stared at his little garden. It was so vibrant and beautiful. The life was radiating off the bright purple petals and Mathew had to smile. He remembered when he had planted these, all the times he wrote or sang here. This was where he and his brother used to play, where he would write or sing; this was his real home. His eyes turned dark once more as he remembered; he had to go home to his hell now.

As the blonde limped up to the front door and made his way inside, he found Alfred in the living room yet again. He didn't acknowledge Mathew's coming home; like usual. After closing the door, Mathew stood there and watched his beloved brother's back twitch and jerk as he tried to kill the people on the large TV screen. He sighed silently, whispered a pathetic "sorry" under his breath, and made his way up to his room.

Mathew grabbed a small razor he usually kept in his dresser and set it on his desk as he found some paper and a pen. He took a deep breath before starting his final letter.

_Dear Brother,_

_Can I still call you that? I know you hate me and will probably be happy after this letter. By this time I will be dead in our bathroom and you will finally be an only child like you've always screamed to me you wanted to be. I'm sorry I fell in love with someone and that I wasn't a better brother to you. I really tried to make it easier after mom and dad died but I guess I'm a failure after all._

_Do you remember when we were little? How you would always play ball with me and laugh when I could never get it? I remember that morning when we were about 12 and you tried to make those pancakes. You burnt them and we laughed and ended up having a mini war with them. I miss you from back then…_

_I know I'm scum and a horrible person. I didn't think that the world would hate me just because I loved someone. It's ok now, though. I'm not sure why he hates me or why you despise me so much. But it's ok; because now I hate me too. So this is it I guess. I have nothing left to say, nothing to stay here for anymore...Please tell Francis that I forgive him. I love you both still very much and I hope we can laugh together again someday. Adieu, cher frère. Goodbye, dearest brother._

_With love, Mathew W._

Mathew set the pen down, his face coated in fresh, wet tears. A smile found its way onto his lips as he gently picked up the blade. He made his way to the bathroom and watched himself in the mirror. His lifeless eyes held hidden pain while his sickly pale skin reflected in the light. He calmly lifted his sweat shirt over his head and looked at all the scars left on his arms and abdomen. He gripped the blade tightly between his two fingers and placed it above a thick vein in his wrist. With Francis's last words in his head and the images of the cold glares in his mind, he quickly dragged it across his skin and winced only slightly as a sharp pain hit him.

-in the living room-

Alfred had just finished his game when his phone rang. Startled, he picked it up in confusion to see it was his friend Francis.

"Hello?"

"Alfred! Can you talk to Mathieu for me? Tell him I'm sorry. Please, it's very important. I think something is wrong with him. I saw some scars on his arms when I…uh…found him earlier and I think he's in trouble!" the Frenchman's voice came quick and smooth, trying his best to speak proper English. For a small moment, Alfred's blood ran cold. He promised his parent's he'd take care of his little brother, even though he _was_ disgusting. Liking a guy? Talk about gross. But he needed to make sure he was ok, for his parents sake.

"Sure. I'll go now. Bye," he sighed as he hung up the phone before standing up. "Mattie!" No answer. Mathew almost always answered his calls. "Mattie?" he called again. He hesitantly made his way up to the boy's room only to find it empty. Before he turned to leave, a bright piece of paper caught his eye. It had his brother's handwriting on it and became interested when he saw his name. As he read the letter, his eyes grew. Hate? Dead? What was he thinking?

Alfred's blood turned to ice as he remembered. He ignored his brother, he was picked on. Of course he would want to die.

"Shit!" he cursed under his breath as he ran to the bathroom. "Mattie?! Mathew Williams, open this door right now!" he screamed. His fists pounded the door as his voice echoed down the hall. He heard light sobs on the other side of the door. He grit his teeth as he stepped back and kicked the door in. Blood filled his vision. It was the first thing he saw; it was on the counter, the mirror, even the floor. The floor. On the floor, his brother lay almost unconscious. He rushed to his brother's side and held him in his lap. He tried to stop the flow of blood from the deep gash in his brother's arm.

"Mattie! What the hell were you thinking?! Shit! What is wrong with you?! I don't hate you so don't fucking kill yourself! Dammit!" Tears were falling from his bright blue eyes as he was silenced by his brother's finger.

"A-Alfred…you finally see me, eh?" he asked with a sad, broken smile. The American took his brother's hand in his and began sobbing too. He found his phone in his back pocket and called 911 and then Francis, telling him to meet them at the hospital. When he was done he looked down at his little brother. "It's ok now, Al. I'm leaving you alone. You and everyone wanted me gone. Francis said he hated me. I'm going to be…free. It's ok…now. I…still love….you…" His voice faded as he went limp in his arms.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry…" he mumbled over and over again. Even as the paramedics came and took him to the ER, the words continued to fall from Alfred's trembling lips. As he walked solemnly into the waiting room, he was tackled with question after question from Francis. After letting the Frenchman calm down a bit, Alfred explained Mathew's letter and what had happened.

"He said something about 'Francis said he hated me' and how he had nothing left to stay for. What's that even about?" Francis hung his head in his hands.

"Gil and Toni, and I, all found him at lunch today. They peer pressured me into helping them bully Mathieu and I said I hated him…merde! This is all my fault…" Alfred was stunned by this. Before he could lecture or yell at his French friend, a nurse came in asking for family of Mathew Williams. Both men jumped up and quickly followed her to a secluded room. In the hospital bed was the lifeless form of Alfred's little brother.

"He punctured a major vein in his arm but it was shallow enough so we could stitch it up. He'll be fine in a few days, maybe weeks. We're going to keep him to make sure his vital signs are ok. He's still asleep but should wake up soon." And with that, the girl was gone. Alfred was the first to approach Mathew; his feet slowly pulling him closer. Tears found their way to his eyes again and he bent over his little brother.

"I remember, Mattie. I'm so sorry I left. I'm back now, I'm so sorry I let things get this far. Please…please forgive me…" he choked and sobbed on his brother's fragile form and realized for the first time how sick his brother looked. His arms were just bones and he looked as if he hadn't eaten in days. His skin was pale and he looked as if he hadn't had a shower in a while either. How did he not notice his brother? He was such a horrible person. Letting his baby brother almost die, that wasn't hero-like at all!

Francis finally worked up the nerve to walk up to his precious Canadian. "Mon Cher, s'il vous plait pardonnez-moi…Please forgive me…" he murmured as he kissed the Canadian's forehead softly.

"Bein sur, Francis…" a soft voice filled the tense silence. He looked down to see half-lidded violet orbs watching him. A small smile played on Mathew's lips that soon spread to the other's. They both hugged Mathew close and began to cry softly.

"Stop. I-I don't deserve that gentle smile…" Francis said softly as he hugged him again.

"So you d-don't hate me…?" the Frenchman gave a sad, empty chuckle as he shook his head.

"Of course not, Mon Cher. I promise to never say that again, even as a joke. Ok?" he asked with a small smile. The Canadian simply smiled and tugged Francis down so their lips met. It was short and sweet as soft lips moved against each other before pulling away. Mathew saw Alfred gagging in the corner but not criticizing them at all. He actually managed a giggle as he saw his brother's comical face. Alfred smiled back at his brother before coming over to hug him once more.

"Sorry I wasn't paying attention to ya, Mattie. I won't ever leave your side again, swear!" he gave his big hero grin before Mathew nodded his head with a comforting smile of his own.

"I forgive you both," he smiled with child-like innocence. It was as if nothing bad had happened.

The three smiled and talked for hours; Mathew mostly listening to his two most important people in the world. He was so happy, he could cry in pure ecstasy.

-A few years later-

Mathew and Francis collapsed onto their new couch. Panting, they smiled at each other. After Mathew had been released, him and Francis went on their first date. They were finally moving in together and every time he thought about it, Mathew couldn't stop the content that stretched across his face. Not that he would want to, he was perfectly happy now.

He didn't want to ask and bring the situation up once more, but Francis often wondered what his little rose was thinking and why he was so fine now. A smile always found its way to his lips when he saw the other do the same. He shook the thought off and dragged himself up from the couch.

"I'll start unpacking in our room. Why don't you get started on the living room?" he asked softly. Mathew nodded and turned to open a box as the Frenchman followed suit. He picked up a rather heavy box and dropped it onto the bed with a thud before opening it. He froze. 'This is Mathew's things…Hm? What is this?' he questioned as he picked up a worn brown leather book. It looked like someone had used it a lot in the past and some of the pages were torn. Francis silently flipped through it. He felt sort of guilty going through his lover's personal things but he was curious. This seemed to be a diary or something. As he landed on the last entry, almost reaching the end of the book, he began to read.

_*Dear Journal, I am done. Can you believe I finally got my happy ending? I couldn't write to you earlier because I was stopped by none other than the Bad Touch Trio. The reason I start with this is it was sort of the beginning to a chain of events that almost cost me my life. _

_I was in the school garden for lunch when I heard Gil behind me. I hid you in the tree out back but I didn't have time to follow. Long story short I was beat there. It wasn't really that big of a deal until Francis came in. Him hitting me hurt. When he said he hated me, I ended up braking. I thought that now that both the people I cared about hated me, there was nothing else to be here for. I went home and cut again. I don't know how or even when I started that but I went a little far…_

_I ended up in the hospital this time. But, hey, Alfred finally noticed me! I was crying and blacked out soon afterwards. When I opened my eyes, though, I saw _him_. I was shocked and thought he had come to laugh at me but I was wrong. He hadn't noticed me yet and was crying for me and apologizing. When I registered what he was saying, my heart tingled and I felt a buzz in my head. I was so happy; he didn't hate me!_

_Alfred said he was sorry too and he said he wouldn't leave my side. Boy, did he mean it! Him and Francis visited me every day to trade stories or to play games or just anything we felt like. I couldn't believe I wasn't alone anymore, I was so excited! One day, Francis even said he loved me~!_

_Which leads me to here. We just finished our first date. I was nervous and thought we were going to go to a restaurant but I was blissfully wrong. He ended up making the most amazing Chicken Alfredo I have ever tasted! It was the simplicity of the dish intermixed with the elegant flavors of spice and creaminess...Afterwards, we sat in the living room and watched a movie. I sat curled against his chest and almost fell asleep a few times. Now and then he would lovingly pet my hair when he thought I was asleep; I had to keep from giggling as the shivers traveled down my spine. When the movie ended, he carried me to his bedroom where we slept._

_I never thought it would feel so comfortable to sleep in someone's arms. It was so peaceful and relaxing, I truly did fall asleep this time! I woke up to the delicious smell of buttermilk pancakes and maple syrup. He knew exactly what I wanted and we talked some more over our amazing breakfast. Overall, it was probably the best day I've had in my entire life. I got to do what I love with the person I love. And I couldn't be happier. _

_One day I am going to let Francis read this or maybe he will find it. This is my last time writing in here. My life growing up was tough and is soaked in tears. Now I have the sweetest, nicest, most perfect man in the world to dry them for me. His kisses are sweet and his smile makes me feel like I can do anything. If you're reading this, Francis, Je T'aime. Thank you so much for being there. I love you~!_

_Love, Mathew W.*_

Francis put the book down just as he heard the door open.

"Francis, where do you want-?" He was cut off by soft lips against his. Without a second thought, Mathew gave in and returned the kiss. Francis pulled back ever so slightly with tears in his eyes. Worry filled Mathew's eyes before he noticed the open journal resting on the bed. He smiled softly up at his lover before kissing him on the cheek softly.

"Je T'aime assui," Francis murmured before taking his Canadian's lips once more. Finally, Mathew got his happy ending.

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**Translations: **Adieu, cher frère – Goodbye, dearest brother.

Merde – God

Mon Cher, s'il vous plait pardonnez-moi – My dear, please forgive me

Bein sur – of course

Je T'aime – I love you

Je T'aime assui – I love you too

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**So. Much. Franada! Well i hope you liked it. Comments?**

**Nobuki: No! He hasn't written the next chapter for Jealousy so make him suffer~!**

**Me: O-O Little angsty there...?**

**Nobuki: XD Oh hush and finish~!**

**Me: *sneaks back and whispers* Review! **


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